Page 47 of Creatures that Breathe

Cross brushes a stray teal hair from my cheek. “I did run out.”

No arrogance, just truth.

Lev’s head pops up, one side of his wide mouth tilted higher.

Cross ends any admiring before it begins. “Scrub and dump the rest of them. My phone went for a swim, I’ll find a payphone and make arrangements.”

In a soft, wavering voice that makes me feel like an intruder, Lev says, “Don’t—Don’t go too far.” He clears his throat loudly. Looks at his feet. “Wouldn’t want to have to show you how to punch again.”

To match the Russian’s concern, Cross’s tone changes to that of an older brother when the little one has a nightmare. “You hardly touched me.” And even gentler still, he says, “I’ll stay close. I promise.”

Cross moves us away from the shore, and without Lev’s game of Search that Corpse! to distract me, a cold truth gnaws at me.

I’m hungry.

“Well?” Cross’s eyebrow arches. “What grade do we get, professor? How many answers are right?”

He’s upbeat.

I want a freshly baked scone. “Let me go.” My voice is tight with guilt.

The obsidian in his eyes darkens as they lower to mine. “Not a possibility. You only just stopped shaking. If I release you, you’ll turn to ice.”

“Please,” I beg weakly.

“Pretty manners to soothe the savage beast.” His laugh is weak and diffident. “Apologies, but I’m not that kind of monster. You’re stuck with me.”

“I’ll be—”

“You fell into the sea, Leni. You stopped breathing. You are no more fine than I am.“ Cross’s voice is gravelly and low, as if he’s just woken up from a long nap. The sound floats over me, pricking deliciously.

“I didn’t fall, I jumped.”

I did. I jumped into the ocean and I’m … absolutely fine. Wet but warm, half naked and salt sprayed but whole. Well. Verging on downright peachy.

Meanwhile, Cross is in tatters. Destroyed. Open wounds on his face and chest, a bad limp, his voice modulates in and out of broken. “Do not beg to be free of me right as I got you back,” he says with a teasing edge I don’t entirely believe. “Please.”

A straight shot of pleasure coils within me at the small growl in his plea.

“No.” He seems as surprised as I am when I struggle in his arms. “No let me go. Stop joking. Stop talking, just Stop.” Everything stop. Even me. Stop feeling okay with everything, stop focusing on the slight caress of Cross’s fingers in my hair.

It’s revolting, how close I’m holding him, how I’ve looped my arms around him, how my chin is buried in his neck, my body balanced on the crook of his arm. I clutch at him like a hero, like he’s a fairy tale come to rescue me.

He’s nothing of the sort.

“Those are bodies,” I snap, shaking with anger. “They’re dead. You killed them. I …” I killed them. I can’t say it.

“Ten more won’t tip the scales for my damnation.” Blackguard through and through, soiled and selfish.

I wriggle to get away again, and he relents, offering me help down. I shake him off, gut twisting in knots.

He reaches to steady me and I evade, stumbling backward. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch Lev drag dead creatures into the water, leaving winding pink trails for the waves to feast on, and my stomach launches into my throat. Finally.

“You’re in shock,” Cross says carefully, barely louder than the sirens now. “Breathe.”

“I’m not in shock, I’m repulsed. I …” I recoil from him farther, mortified at the idea of him touching me, of finding pleasure at a time like this. “You’re worse than what they said. Barbaric and heartless and ...”

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